


i'm coming back to you

by frozensight



Series: a whole new world (literally) [5]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Living Together, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-27
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2018-04-11 11:25:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4433687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frozensight/pseuds/frozensight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve has a hangover, and Bucky’s got a best friend who can’t hold his liquor worth a damn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i'm coming back to you

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: “I drunkenly tried to fight you and knocked myself out but you were kind enough to take care of me till I woke up.”

Steve’s head pounded, and instinct warned him that opening his eyes right now would be bad— _very bad_. He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut more tightly as he rolled over so he could press his forehead against the wall. Instead of the instant relief of the cool wall, Steve was met with a dull pain, causing the throbbing of his head to intensify. He groaned again, and this time, somebody sat next to him on his bed.

“He lives,” murmured a voice softly, and faintly Steve recognized the voice of his best (and only) friend. “I was beginning to think that you might’ve conked out once and for all, pal.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easy,” was all Steve managed to whisper back, his throat scratchy. The moment he spoke, his stomach revolted, and Steve was glad Bucky had quick reflexes because otherwise he’d have been covered in puke right then.

“Clearly,” replied Bucky, amusement woven throughout his tone, “But I don’t think it’s me that’d be doing to riddin’. You seem to be able to take care of that all on your own.”

Eyes cracked open only a bit, Steve watched Bucky. He was smiling, but it was that ‘you’re an idiot but you’re also my best friend so here I am taking care of you _again_ ’ smile he got whenever Steve got sick or beat up. “What’d I do _this_ time?”

“Oh, don’t remember?” Bucky laughed, and it was loud enough that Steve closed his eyes again, wishing he could stuff his ears with cotton and never hear another sound again in his life. “This is rich! You remember every fight you’ve ever been in—the wheres, the whys, and the hows—but you can’t remember the time you knock _yourself_ out.”

Steve cracked an eye at Bucky, a little amused despite himself. “How the hell did I manage that?”

“Well,” began Bucky, like he was about to regal him with the next Great American Novel, “It all started with the fact that you’re a damn lightweight.”

“Tell me something I _don’t_ know, Buck.”

“Did I say I was done? No, I didn’t.” Bucky cleared his throat and resumed his story. “Anyway, you had maybe two drinks before it all went to your head, and you started asking around for a fight. I told you to sit down, that you were drunk and didn’t need to be fightin’ anyhow, and then you said you wanted to fight _me_.”

If Steve’s throat wasn’t so dry and sore now, he would’ve groaned again, sensing what was coming next.

“I told you that no one wanted to fight you, but you insisted. I stood up next to you, prepared to escort you back here before you hurt yourself, when you know what happened?”

“Lemme guess,” Steve started, his lips drawn into a wry smile, “I hurt myself?”

“Right on the nose, Steven! Right on the _nose_. You slipped on a beer puddle when you tried to punch me, and whacked your head on the table before falling to the floor. I paid for our beers and then carried you out of the bar like a sack of flour.” Bucky grinned at him, as if to imply that the sack of flour weighed more, and honestly, Steve imagined it probably did. “I got us back here, and I’ve been waiting for you to wake up ever since.”

Steve hazarded a glance towards the window, a small pang in his heart (and eyes) at the sight of daylight just beginning to creep inside.

“Buck, you should’ve slept; you got work soon.”

With a shrug, Bucky handed Steve a cup of water. “It’s fine. Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t done before.”

“Bucky.” Steve’s eyes opened all the way, trying to level Bucky with his sternest expression.

“Steve,” mimicked Bucky as he stood up, making his way to the small kitchen of the small one-room and bath apartment that Steve had been renting and that Bucky had been staying at with him more often than not as of late.

“I’m fine,” said Steve.

Even from the bed and with Bucky facing the other way, Steve knew he rolled his eyes. “I got that.”

“ _Bucky_.”

“ _Steve_.”

“Go to work, Buck. I’ve had a hangover before. Just leave me some water and the trash bin; I can take care of myself, alright?”

Bucky snorted, but he didn’t argue (though Steve was fairly certain that he wanted to). He quietly gathered the things Steve would need to minimize his leaving the bed and left them in reach on the tiny rickety end table next to the bed. When he finished, he stood by Steve, hands on his hips, and asked, “You sure you don’t want me to stay? Mike said it’s fine, I already called and asked, told him you fell and hit your head—which is true, I just left out the drunk part—”

“Damnit, Barnes, go to work and tell everyone about how your best friend knocked himself out after two beers.” Talking at a normal level voice made Steve’s head throb more, but it was worth it to see Bucky smile.

“I’ll see ya when I get home then,” said Bucky, waving as he walked out the door.

“You got to _leave_ first!” Steve got the typical rude gesture from Bucky as the door shut behind him, and he chuckled to himself until his head asked him politely to stop.

It was a few minutes later when Steve realized that Bucky had referred to the apartment as _home_ , even though technically there was only one bed—Steve’s bed—and whenever Bucky slept over, they either shared, or Bucky bunked on the tiny couch that had been left by the previous tenant. (Steve fit perfectly on it, whereas Bucky hung off it at both ends, but he refused to let Steve take the couch, always citing something about Steve’s scoliosis or something or other.)

Looking around, he noticed that a lot of Bucky’s things had found their way all over the apartment without Steve being conscious of it happening, and he wondered when exactly it was that Bucky had moved in with him.

He shrugged, a tiny smile on his face, because what did it matter whether it was his apartment or _their_ apartment—the point was, Bucky would always be there for Steve and vice versa, even when Steve tried to fight him and punched his own lights out.

“’Til the end of the line,” Steve muttered to himself as he drank more water before he settled back into the bed, intending to sleep away his hangover as best he could until Bucky got off work and came home.


End file.
